The vista was so majestic that I had to hit the brakes: the jagged limestone peaks of Mallorca’s Tramuntana Mountains tumbled down to the cobalt-blue waters of the Balearic Sea, like one of those hyperrealistic laptop wallpapers. Snaking its way across this UNESCO-protected valley was a ribbon of asphalt, forming perfect switchbacks for a steady trickle of muscular cyclists zipping by on their $10,000 carbon-fiber bikes.
I finally understood why Sa Calobra, a route that hugs Mallorca’s northwest coast, is considered by serious cyclists to be one of the world’s most epic rides. In addition to the sublime views, it climbs a steady 7 percent gradient up 2,358 feet, with 26 hairpin turns culminating in an iconic 270-degree loop known as the “Knotted Tie.” No wonder professional cyclists train here.
But I am no pro. Sure, I bike to work in New York City, but I had never done a proper ride before—the kind people post about on Strava, the social network for cyclists and runners. So instead of a standard two-wheeler, I planned to tackle Sa Calobra with the assist of an e-road bike. Not only that, I was riding with my buddy Mark, a hardcore cyclist who logs around 150 miles a week and even sent me his 10-page bike fit report to pass along, so that the cycling tour guys had his exact saddle height and angle.
Avid cyclists tend to look down their noses at e-bikes, but that’s starting to change. E-bikes have made difficult trails more accessible to casual riders. Could they also bridge the divide between rookies and road warriors, allowing them to ride together? That’s what I aimed to find out.
We wanted to go car-free, which meant starting at our hotel, the Jumeirah Mallorca, a cliff-top resort overlooking the horseshoe-shaped Port de Sóller Bay and the Tramuntana Mountains. It’s one of the several luxury hotels on the island that cater to so-called Mamils (middle-aged men in Lycra), with amenities like custom tours, bike concierges, high-end rentals, support vans, and cleaning stations. The full journey—there and back—would span 50 miles and climb a total of 7,100 feet, across two camel-like humps.
To beat the June heat, we woke up at 6:30 a.m. to meet Adrian Casanova, the enterprising co-founder of Medfeel, a cycling outfit that partners with Jumeirah and other top hotels. He brought two bikes: Mark would ride a Trek Madone SL 6 Gen 8—a featherweight machine with high-tech shifters; I’d ride a Trek Domane+ SRL6—an e-bike that looked surprisingly normal with its compact battery and motor discreetly hidden in the sleek frame. After a quick tutorial on how to trigger the pedal assist with my thumbs, we were off.
The morning air was a tad nippy as we glided past the empty beaches of Port de Sóller and rumbled along a vintage trolley track. After exiting a traffic circle, the road tilted upward at a steady 5 percent grade. To maintain their pace, Casanova (yes, that’s really his name and what I called him) and Mark began riding “out of the saddle”—that is, they stood up on their pedals to generate power with their upper body. I activated my pedal assist. Instead of a jolt, the boost felt smooth and natural—as if my legs had joined a gym without telling me. I coasted up the hill, soaking in the beautiful scenery, listening for birdsong, and breathing in the pine-scented air.
An hour in, Casanova stopped to check my battery. It was already down to 80 percent and we still had a very long way to go. He seemed concerned. We found a free outlet behind a Coke vending machine and plugged in for 15 minutes while studying the route. At first, I thought the challenge was whether I could tackle two of Mallorca’s biggest climbs. (“We would never recommend this route for a beginner,” Casanova told me earlier.) But the real question turned out to be: who would run out of energy first—me or the battery?
We pressed on. The landscape kept shifting: craggy white peaks of the Tramuntana Mountains drew closer, pine forests grew sparser, and we dodged the occasional sheep. We cut through a pair of windy tunnels, paused for gel-pack breaks, looked out over shrub-covered valleys, and filmed video selfies along the emerald waters of the Gorg Balu reservoir.
Around 9:30 a.m., after riding about 17 miles and ascending 2,850 feet, we reached the actual start of Sa Calobora—an otherwise unremarkable intersection near an aqueduct with a concession stand. We refilled our water bottles. My battery was at 60 percent. “You’ll want to conserve the battery here,” Casanova said, as we hopped back on our cycles.
The road started flat but quickly tilted uphill. The sun had burned off the morning clouds just in time for the hardest part of the ride. By the first hairpin turn, the grade hit 11 percent. I had no choice but to crank the pedal assist to Level 3, the highest setting. To keep up with Mark and Casanova, I even found myself riding out of the saddle, too. And so it went for the next 2.5 miles: a relentless grind against gravity and fatigue, until we finally reached the 2,238-foot summit, followed shortly by the iconic 270-degree loop. We were so high up that when I re-applied sunscreen, the lotion spurted from the bottle.
The rest was all downhill—if you don’t count the dozen more hairpin turns and a few too-picturesque-to-pass-up stops, including a narrow, cathedral-like passage called Sa Bretxa. Following Casanova’s lead, I hit a top speed of 35 m.p.h. That won’t break any records, but it felt exhilarating to fly down to Port De Sa Calobra, the small village at the trail’s end.
Then came range anxiety—my battery was down to 42 percent. We found a free charging station at a self-service cafeteria and plugged in. To pass the time, we snacked on Iberian ham sandwiches and hiked through a narrow tunnel to reach a secluded pebble beach, framed by clear waters and towering cliffs on one side, a dry riverbed on the other. I wanted to jump into the sea, but my Rapha cycling bib wasn’t exactly swimwear.
By the time we got back to the cafe, the battery was at 95 percent. Would that be enough to get back to the hotel? I had two strikes against me: the midday sun and 25 miles already behind me. I hopped on and pushed forward. Climbing up Sa Calobra from sea level was brutal. I tried to conserve energy, but this was exactly when I needed my robot legs the most, especially around those tight hairpin turns. I was back down to 42 percent by the time I reached the 270-degree loop.
A cyclist riding along the Sa Calobra in the Tramuntana Mountains.
James Osmond/Getty Images
“One more big climb to go,” Casanova said, referring to Puig Major, which Strava users rate as “HC”—the most difficult classification. I won’t lie; this part was a slog. It wasn’t so much fatigue or my seat (a top-notch chamois pad helps!). It was the repetitive strain on my shoulders after five hours of cycling. But the real punishment came after the summit. Rather than pedal, I had to clamp the brakes the entire way down. That probably gets easier with practice, but I had to stop multiple times. Good thing Mark had biked ahead.
Casanova and I rolled into Port de Sóller around 3 p.m., just as a warning light started blinking—9 percent battery left. After weaving through the beachfront crowds, I realized Casanova had left out one final detail:. the Jumeirah sits atop a 300-foot-high cliff, with some sections as steep as 20 percent. I cranked up the pedal assist to full power and pushed my way up, arriving at the hotel’s circular driveway with only 7 percent remaining. We were both drained.
The valet took the bike to charge, while I joined Mark by the pool for a glass of champagne, before heading to the spa for a deep-tissue massage, followed by a long soak in a hydrotherapy pool with unobstructed views of the Tramuntana Mountains. No, I didn’t ride like a pro cyclist—but I recovered like one.